Anxiety Attacks
by xSeshatx
Summary: {Oneshot} (Trigger Warning) Peter was no stranger to self-harm. Spider-Man saved him from his previous life style, but old habits die hard.


Before becoming Spider-Man, Peter Parker was a nobody. Well, he was still a nobody, but he knew there was more to him than anybody else knew. He was Spider-Man. Sure, nobody knew that and that still made him a nobody, but at least he could proudly think that he was more. He was no stranger to self-esteem issues but he had no doubt in his ability in Spider-Man. His self-doubt stemmed from who Peter was as opposed to Spider-Man. Peter Parker was a nobody, but Spider-Man: Spider-Man was a somebody. That was good enough for Peter.

Spider-Man saved Peter in more ways than one. It made him stronger, gave him a much higher pain tolerance, and taught him that there was more to people than what meets the eye. More than that, however, was the fact that becoming Spider-Man stopped Peter's previous habits. Around the age of thirteen he decided that he really hated his life. He was lucky in some areas: he was brilliant, had a great work ethic, and had the best aunt and uncle anybody could wish for. On the opposite side, however, he was smart enough to realize how terrible the world really was, he had an issue with perfection and procrastination, and he was living with his aunt and uncle instead of his parents. So, really, every good thing about him was also one of the worst things about him. With his self-hatred, Peter took up something that he never wanted to admit to anybody: he started self-harming.

Most teens hate their lives, but a small percentage of teens went as far as to harming themselves. Peter hadn't known that some people actually harmed themselves until after he already started. He didn't start off slow or hesitant with his new habit. Instead, he dived right in to the self-torture. It began with him lighting a lighter, waiting for the metal to get really hot, and then shutting the flame off and pressing it hard against any part of his body. When he discovered that he wasn't the only person to hate themselves that much, he researched other ways to harm himself and finally took up cutting. For a while, that was a normal part of his life. Whenever his self-doubt started creeping up on him more than usual, he would cut in order to keep himself grounded. Panic attacks weren't fun and cutting held him back from that. Sometimes.

Over a year and a half after he began his adventure in self-harming, he became Spider-Man. Being Spider-Man was a nice alternative to cutting. It kept him grounded as well as cutting did and he had less time and energy to have panic attacks on the regular. Sure, he was fucking terrified of being Spider-Man, but it was amazing, really. The pros outweighed the cons in that particular situation. Becoming Spider-Man put a halt to his self-harming and he watched the cuts heal into scabs before healing into scars all at a faster pace than he was used to. It wasn't a bad thing. It was just a thing, no good or bad to it. He never threw out the blades he used, though. He couldn't push it behind him completely. While he never let himself return to that habit, he couldn't help but keep them close, sometimes going as far as to bring them with him to school. If he wasn't using them, there was no harm done. That's what he was telling himself.

He should have seen it coming, really. There was no way he could have a habit for nearly two years and then drop it as quickly as he did. Without relapsing or anything, he just became Spider-Man and never did it again. Well, he didn't for a few months. More than a few months, actually. Nearly eight months after becoming Spider-Man and putting an end to his habits, he lost the self-control and he did it again. And it almost felt like he was making up for lost time.

It's hard to think in the midst of a panic attack. That's something Peter always knew, but he never found himself in one of those moments while cutting. Cutting usually helped him but, in this instance, it did anything but help. It was a bad day in school and then he got in a fight with Aunt May; he didn't remember what exactly started the fight, but it ended up with lots of raised voices, slammed doors, and mentions of how much he had changed. When he got to his room, he made the decision to go out as Spider-Man for a while and get through his frustrations and sadness that way. Seeing the Spider-Man suit, though, sent him into a fit without any warning. Flashbacks of the plane fight, being trapped under a building, and fighting Captain America filled his brain within seconds. Seeing no other way to calm himself down, he blindlessly grabbed his blades (he tried not to focus on how he knew exactly where they were even though he stopped using them) and returned to the old habit he couldn't quite let go of.

When he would cut, he always cut in a place his aunt and uncle, or eventually just his aunt, wouldn't notice. This time, however, he wasn't thinking. He wasn't worried about somebody finding out or anything. He wasn't even sure what he was worried about or thinking about. Everything was jumbled and his senses were in hyperdrive. Everything around him was loud even if it wasn't making any noise. It was painful and he was anxious and he was scared and he - He just picked up the blade and tore himself to shreds. Cuts littered his arms from his elbows to his wrists. When he felt those begin to heal not long after, he went over some of them again but deeper. Too deep. There was too much blood and he was too hysterical to do much about it and he somehow managed to cut almost all the way up to his shoulders.

There was no doubt that he needed help. He had been a super-human with accelerated healing but there was a lot of blood and it scared him. Peter hated many parts of his life and knew he had an issue but he wasn't suicidal. There was absolutely no way he'd go to Aunt May to help stop the bleeding from his cutting and Ned would probably be sent into a fit of panic just as bad as Peter's if he saw. There was nobody else he could turn to besides one of them. Even as that thought crossed his mind he knew he was wrong. There was somebody else who would almost definitely take away his suit again and bench him permanently, but he could work his way around those issues. He was too afraid to die so he'd risk losing the suit. Or maybe he just didn't want to be alone.

Truth be told, he was stuck in Peter Parker mode. He had to actively tell himself to pull his suit on, grab his web shooters, and rush as fast as he could to the new Avengers headquarters. He remembered to grab his backpack, though, packed with clothes and his blades. It was far, way too far for Peter's liking, but he pushed himself to get there as quickly as possible. He was tired, he was still panicking, and his accuracy with the web shooters was way off, but he was making it there in record time and that's what mattered most. The cuts on his skin weren't healing as fast as they should have been and they were still leaking blood.

Too much time passed before he finally made it to where he knew Avengers HQ was, and he only knew where it was because Karen was programmed with a map on how to get there as if she knew exactly where he needed to go. He made it to where he needed to go in one piece and walked into the building, still in full uniform. He must have had clearance, being Spider-Man, because nobody stopped him. Trying his best not to look as frantic as he felt, Peter ran to the elevator and tried to figure out which floor he should go to. He was about to pick a random floor when, "Hello, Spider-Man. Shall I bring you to Mister Stark?" He didn't recognize the voice but he knew Tony had an AI who basically controlled everything so he assumed her voice was that AI.

"Yes, please," he said, hoping he didn't sound as desperate as he felt.

"Mister Stark was not expecting you. He has been alerted to your arrival."

The second the elevator opened up, Peter ran out of it and directly into Tony. "Woah, kid," Tony said, reaching out to grab him before Peter flinched away. "Mask off. What happened?"

Peter ripped the mask off and let it fall to the ground where he was standing before he started to pace. He didn't want to cry, he didn't want to cry, and - of course he started crying. "I'm sorry, Mister Stark," he said, still pacing. "I didn't mean to."

"Didn't mean to what?" Tony wanted to reach out again to stop the pacing teen, but Peter flinched away from him twice. Once just then and once in Germany. He didn't want to make it happen a third time. "What's going on?"

"I don't know why I came here," Peter said, more to himself but Tony still heard it. Peter was regretting his decision. He didn't need help. He was fine and wanted to be alone. At least, that's what he was suddenly telling himself. He didn't think he should be there, crying in front of his mentor and idol and about to open up about his mistake. He wasn't ready and it was unnecessary, really. What good could Tony do if it was already done?

Slowly and carefully, so he didn't startle Peter with his movement, Tony knelt down to retrieve the fallen Spider-Man mask. "You're here now," he reminded him. "Whatever the reason, you're here. Why?"

"I didn't mean to, I didn't mean to," he kept repeating. "I'm sorry, I couldn't stop myself."

"Peter," Tony said, trying not to sound as frustrated as he was feeling. Or was it worried? The two emotions went hand-in-hand with each other and it was sometimes difficult to differentiate the two.

"It was a mistake, just a mistake. I can't do anything right. I screwed up big time. I'm sorry, Mister Stark. I shouldn't have come, I shouldn't have done it, I should've stayed home." Of course he was panicking, now of all times. "I didn't mean to. Oh god."

"Peter..." Tony was at a loss for words. He had no idea what was going on but it worried him. He was afraid for Peter.

"I'm sorry," Peter said one final time before pulling up the sleeves to his Spider-Man costume and openly crying instead of the silent tears and panicked breathing he was exhibiting before.

All the air left Tony's lungs but he forced himself into action. He didn't know how on earth to approach the situation so he simply did what felt natural instead of trying to figure out what was most logical. Tony didn't do well eliminating the logical aspect of his brain but he couldn't waste time on that. He walked forward, slowly, and wrapped an arm around the back of Peter's shoulders, causing the third flinch from the boy he was trying to avoid. "Let's go," he said, keeping his voice gentle yet stern. He led the two of them to the lab Tony had previously been in. He grabbed one of the many first-aid kits he kept stored there (because he would never see a doctor to treat his injuries when he could do it himself) and had Peter sit down on the couch in the corner. "I'm going to clean these, okay? Are there anymore?"

Wordlessly, Peter shrugged out of the top half of his outfit so Tony could see the endless amount of cuts running from his shoulders to his wrists. They were all fresh, but some had stopped bleeding while the rest wouldn't stop. It didn't make sense to Tony: Peter had enhanced healing and his body should have already started that process, which meant that Peter must have just hurt himself moments before entering the tower, his spider-abilities were diminishing, or his body was too overworked to heal. "I'm sorry," Peter whispered, watching the process of Tony thinking. He didn't know what the genius was thinking about and he wasn't too sure he wanted to.

"You don't need to be sorry," Tony said, again speaking carefully as he finally made a move to clean him up. He poured probably too much disinfectant on a cloth and began to, as gently as he could, clean the worst of the cuts. "Kid, knock that look off your face. We don't need anymore self-loathing going around, okay? I'm not angry. I just want to know what happened, why you did this to yourself." He couldn't figure out what was going on and he was desperately trying to push away the logical side of comfort because, really, there wasn't a logical side to comfort. "Hey," he said, reaching one hand up to grab the back of Peter's neck and making him look down at him, "relax. We can talk about this after I finish if you're not ready to talk now."

Tony decided to remain silent the rest of the time because the anxiety coming off Peter was too much for him to address yet. He wasn't doing anything to calm the kid down with his words so he'd wait until they were in a less serious situation to talk. He wrapped Peter's arms entirely in gauze, unable to find a way to avoid whole arm. There were too many cuts, and many were still bleeding and needed wrapped. He knew the kid could get away with wearing a sweatshirt or something for a few days until he was healed properly and completely. He barely finished wrapping everything when, "I didn't mean to."

"I know you didn't, buddy," he said, patting his knee before standing from the ground to take a seat next to him on the couch.

"It just...happened. I hadn't done that in forever. I don't know why I did. I didn't even think about it." The way Peter was talking about what he did sounded as if he was traumatized by the whole ordeal. Tony was, too.

"Have you done that before?" Tony knew the answer based off of the way Peter worded his last statement, but he didn't want to address it unless he had confirmation from him.

"I used to, a while ago. I stopped when I became Spider-Man." He sounded so timid, so afraid, so unlike Spider-Man that it hurt Tony to hear it. Peter, and Spider-Man, always sounded so fearless, so carefree.

"Is this the first time since becoming Spider-Man?" Peter simply nodded. "What happened today?"

Peter's cries had stopped, finally, and he wiped his eyes to get rid of any leftover tears. "Today just sucked, and I guess I lost control. Me and Aunt May had a fight, the worst we've ever had, and school was horrible, and then I wanted to go out on patrol to clear my mind, but...I guess I just got scared. I went to put on the suit and I had a flashback of everything. Being Spider-Man is scary but I usually have a good lid on that because I love what I do, but I don't love being trapped under buildings and fighting the guy I used to look up to and all the bed stuff that comes with being Spider-Man. Can't say I'm a huge fan of who I am out of the suit, either."

Briefly, Tony was reminded of their conversation at the ferry. Peter had said he was nothing without the suit. Maybe that wasn't coming from the fact that Spider-Man was significantly cooler than Peter or anything he thought of that day. Tony considered, for a moment, that Peter simply hated who he was outside of the suit and preferred who he was inside of it. That would explain how he longed for approval, basically lived in his suit, and why his habit of self-harming quit as soon as the alter ego of Spider-Man was created. All that was simply stuff to consider at a later time, though. He had more important things to take care of. "I'm not going to waste my time telling you how you shouldn't do this stuff to yourself because I'm sure you already know." Peter nodded mutely. "This is serious. The adult part of me knows I should go straight to Aunt May." Peter tensed up. "I'm not going to do that, don't worry. The other part of me understands how you're feeling and knows that going to Aunt May will probably make this situation a hell of a lot worse."

"You don't have to do anything. You helped enough by dealing with the...physical part of the problem," Peter said, shaking his head and wringing his hands in a nervous habit. "I can't ask you to do more. I can move forward from this on my own. I'll be fine."

"I know you'll be fine because Peter Parker and Spider-Man can both bounce back. I have no doubt that you'll be okay, but excuse my doubt that this won't be your last time returning to this habit of yours."

"I can't promise that I won't again, Mister Stark. I don't want to and I can think that I'll get better, but...I never could get rid of what I use. Even though I hadn't done it in months, I still brought it with me almost anywhere I went."

"Feel comfortable handing your...tools over?" Tony knew it was best to give the kid a choice instead of simply demanding he give it to him. Give him the chance to say no and he'll be more likely to say yes.

The tears started again without any warning and neither were prepared to handle it. "I want to give you my blades because I wanna put this behind me, b-but I get so anxious when I don't have them, and I hate panic attacks more than I hate cutting, and I know I'm weak, and I know I'm a failu-"

"Don't finish that sentence, kid," Tony cut in. He wrapped an arm around Peter's shoulders and decided that was the best he could do for physical comfort at the moment. The kid seemed to relish in it, almost, as he leaned into Tony, still crying. "You're not a failure, you're not weak, and you're not anything else you were likely going to say if I let you continue talking. You get panic attacks? I used to get them all the time, Pete. That's something I could have helped you with at any given point. That's why you need to start speaking up about things. Chances are, I could help you with them. You're a genius, I'm a genius. You have a severe hero complex, I've been told I do, too. You have your teenage angst, I was the definition of teenage angst." A snort from Peter. "You're a superhero Well would you look at that? I'm a superhero, too. What a coincidence. I understand all the baggage that comes with being a superhero. That's one of the biggest reasons I wanted so bad to be this mentor-type figure to you. You shouldn't have to go through all that alone when there's a perfectly good person right here who understands."

"You have panic attacks?" was the only thing Peter could say or ask. He couldn't picture any of the Avengers feeling the way he did. They were so great and he was so...not.

"Not anymore, I don't," Tony said with a sigh. "It got pretty bad when all those aliens almost took over New York, though, you know? I had some bad nightmares before that about other things like how I became Iron Man, but panic attacks came later. I learned to deal with the fear. I learned to recognize the signs that today might be a shitty day and I manage what I have to deal with. I learned how to go into a battle prepared so when I come out the other end of it I don't have all this excess anxiety to stick with me. I wasn't trained for battle either, kid, but I had to train myself. I can help you."

"You can?"

"Of course I can. I'm Tony Stark." Another snort from Peter and Tony noticed the lack of tears. "Everybody from cops to soldiers to the Avengers are trained in battle. You need to know how to handle the emotions and the physicality of it and learn how to bounce back." Tony got quiet for a moment as he processed everything that had been said, and something wasn't adding up. "Wait. Did you have panic attacks before Spider-Man existed? You said you dropped your habit when you became Spider-Man."

Peter began to shift, uncomfortable. He was hoping Tony didn't bring that part up and that he could get away pretending he had panic attacks only because of Spider-Man. "I've had some because of Spider-Man, but...yeah, I guess, I've had them for other reasons. It's calmed down since becoming Spider-Man. I was thinking that, maybe, when what happened happened, um...I don't know how to word it, Mister Stark. The spider bite made me stronger, quicker, and all that, but maybe it made it easier to, I don't know, regulate the chemicals in my brain so all that stuff calmed down? But I still get them, so I don't know if that's true or not. I'm rambling. Sorry."

"I don't know how the spider affected you completely, Peter, but I'll keep that in mind for a possibility. If you're having panic attacks, and you've had them before Spider-Man, then maybe you should talk to Aunt May about it? - Oh, calm down, quit tensing up whenever I mention her name. - I'm just saying that there's, you know, ways to help with that. Medication and all that, or just therapy. Not 'I'm afraid because I'm Spider-Man' therapy, either. Of course, those are only two solutions. Aunt May could be a solution of her own. She is your aunt, after all. Your family. She can probably help you through the anxiety without ever finding out you're Spider-Man."

Peter really, really didn't want to consider that option. But, honestly, he already was. "Are you suggesting I tell her about my...habits, too?"

"I can't say anything about that, but if you harming yourself partly stemmed because of your anxiety, then might as well address the beginning of the problem."

Telling Aunt May about his panic attacks terrified him, but he also craved to have her there for him. She was always there, even if they fought. She may have only been his aunt but she raised him like her son. He was her only living relative and he was hers, or at least they were their only relatives more than third cousins or anything like that. He knew he could talk to her about almost anything, but he's kept most of the horrible things from her. He never admitted the bullying at school, how he mind worked too fast for him to keep up with, or, of course, the anxiety. "You think she can help me?"

"She can help you probably better than anyone else can." That settled it really.

Tony and Happy drove him back to Queens not long after. He changed into normal Peter Parker clothes and tried to calm his nerves. Happy was outwardly annoyed that the teen had somehow managed to make it to their new home and he now had to drive all the way to Queens and back, but he didn't mind as much as he was letting on. Tony and Peter sat in the back, both refusing to talk about the subject anymore, and instead talked about the crime fighter Spider-Man. Because that was an easier topic.

When they got to Peter's apartment, he hesitated to step out of the car. "Kid-" Tony began before Peter dug into his backpack and forcefully shoved something into Tony's hands despite knowing he didn't like being handed things. Without saying anything, he jumped out of the car, slammed the door shut, and all-but sprinted into his apartment. Tony opened his hand and stared at the razor blades Peter had given him. He tried not to smile.

Aunt May was sitting on the couch with her head in her hands when he walked inside. Immediately, her head shot up and the rest of her body followed as she engulfed him in a hug. "I didn't know where you went," she said, hugging him tight. "I was worried. I thought maybe..."

She thought he ran away because of their fight. Peter hugged her back, whispered a sorry in her ear, and just allowed himself to feel the embrace of his aunt. "I didn't mean to worry you. I just needed some air."

Eventually, the two broke apart and took a seat together on the couch. "About earlier," Aunt May stared before Peter cut her off.

"No," he said. "I'm sorry. You're right. I have changed a lot. I know I'm not always honest with you, I know I don't always listen, and I know you feel like I'm hiding my entire life from you. I don't mean to come off this way, but I, uh, I'm just sorry."

"What's been going on with you, Peter?" she asked, grabbing his hand and holding it in both of hers. "You know you've always been able to talk to me."

He always had, really, but some things were too hard to talk about no matter who the person was. "I've been having a...rough time the past couple years. I don't know how it started but I get, uh, well." He pulled his hand away from Aunt May and put his head in his hands, trying to force the nerve to speak. Peter had to close his eyes. He had to block out some input and make it easier to think and breathe. "I get so nervous and I don't always know why. Sometimes there's too much going on or there's too many people, or sometimes there's no real reason and I just get...I have panic attacks a lot." He hadn't known how else to phrase it without beating around the bush. "It gets bad sometimes. I didn't want you to know because I know you'll worry and you're always worried about me. I didn't want to cause you more worry, and then Uncle Ben...and I don't wanna talk about this even now." He hadn't realized he started crying again until a sob escaped his throat. "I can't keep doing this on my own."

He wasn't sure when exactly Aunt May wrapped her arms around him and he couldn't be sure as to how his head ended up on her shoulder as he cried. He didn't know how long she had been crying, either, but all these things somehow happened as he was talking. He told her about how it felt to be in those overwhelming moments of panic and the way he tried so hard to shield her from the bad things in Peter's life such as the bullying and the need to make everything perfect. He even talked about the night Uncle Ben died, how he had witnessed it and how that only made his anxiety worse. She listened, not once interrupting. She held him as he cried and saw first-hand what it was like for him to experience a panic attack as he had one right in front of her. The two talked for hours, with him promising to talk to her more and her promising to help him through these issues. And at the end of the long, tiring night, Peter felt lighter than he had in a long time, maybe ever. He knew this was because in the span of a day, he got one person who truly understood everything he was going through and another who would stand by him until the end.

That night, he slept better than he had for two years. And Aunt May didn't leave his side once.

 **A/N Based off of Self-Harm by awshizzle327. Well, that's where I got this idea from at least. I'm a sick person. Anybody who has read my other Spider-Man writing knows I'm a sick individual who loves Peter whump and all this teenage angst I picture {Tom Holland's} Spider-Man with. Excuse how exaggerated it is. Figured I'd amp it up for a superhuman**

 **Look, I don't know where the new Avengers building is in relation to Queens. If it's two minutes or if it's three hours, does it really matter? Also, I know I'm pretty terrible at writing in character, especially when it comes to Tony, but let's just pretend I'm awesome at that, yeah? ;D**


End file.
